Page 21 - Diversion Ahead

"Hardly a soul," said Framton. "My sister was staying here, at the rectory,

you know, some four years ago, and she gave me letters of introduction to some
of the people here."

He made the last statement in a tone of distinct regret.

"Then you know practically nothing about my aunt?" pursued the self-
possessed young lady.

"Only her name and address," admitted the caller. He was wondering
whether Mrs. Sappleton was in the married or widowed state. An undefinable
something about the room seemed to suggest masculine habitation.

"Her great tragedy happened just three years ago," said the child; "that
would be since your sister's time."

"Her tragedy?" asked Framton; somehow in this restful country spot
tragedies seemed out of place.

"You may wonder why we keep that window wide open on an October
afternoon," said the niece, indicating a large French window that opened on to a
lawn.

"It is quite warm for the time of the year," said Framton; "but has that
window got anything to do with the tragedy?"

"Out through that window, three years ago to a day, her husband and her
two young brothers went off for their day's shooting. They never came back. In
crossing the moor to their favourite snipe-shooting ground they were all three
engulfed in a treacherous piece of bog. It had been that dreadful wet summer,
you know, and places that were safe in other years gave way suddenly without
warning. Their bodies were never recovered. That was the dreadful part of it."

Here the child's voice lost its self-possessed note and became falteringly human.
"Poor aunt always thinks that they will come back someday, they and the little
brown spaniel that was lost with them, and walk in at that window just as they
used to do. That is why the window is kept open every evening till it is quite dusk.
Poor dear aunt, she has often told me how they went out, her husband with his
white waterproof coat over his arm, and Ronnie, her youngest brother, singing
'Bertie, why do you bound?' as he always did to tease her, because she said it got

on her nerves. Do you know, sometimes on still, quiet evenings like this, I almost
get a creepy feeling that they will all walk in through that window —”

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